No one Runs the Same Miles

Ryan Hall blew the pack away at the Olympic Trials for the men's marathon, Saturday. Ryan Shay, also a team contender, collapsed and later died after 5 miles. Martin Lel, of the fleet-footed Kenyan champions, took the NYC Marathon today for the men, while Paula Radcliffe, my girl, 8 months from having her baby, blows off her competition for the women's win. At the Trials, my boy Abdi, as well as Meb, didn't fare as well, and Alan Culpeper, hands out a DNS. Khalid, Dave's guy, threw himself at the leaders for an alternate spot on the Olympic team. Many others, young, gifted, swift, also champions, never made it to the front of the pack.

No one runs the same miles...they say there were men and women in their 80's running New York. The super, uber-athletes may lead the way, but the course is full of unlikely runners, every stripe and level of ability. And the crowds that go crazy when the leaders pass will still be screaming for them too! Their adrenaline and excitement pushing the energy way up, where a tired runner can hook onto and crank out another stretch of race.

I watched both events; I can't believe I will soon, one day, feel that experience. I ran long today, probably about 15 or more, picking a route that would give me a few good long straight stretches to practice stride and rhythm. It was punishing, and I've been tired for several days. My feet and legs ached the entire time and it only increased. I was out a ridiculous amount of time, even with my stops, and I laughed at a few points about my goal of 5 hours for Miami...sometimes I wonder if I'll ever make it at all....

I watch the elite run their best miles, their pretty miles, miles with smiles. I watch them work through what I know is discomfort and stress if not outright pain. The ones churning like torpedoes, as Khalid did, and the ones, like Ryan, who flew like a fast wind, just inches from the ground, in a ballet of speed; elegant, long strides, easy arms, unwasted movement.

Where are we running to? That place in our heads that belongs to us. We wait for the moment when our bodies are too busy to notice that we are fixed somewhere around ourselves, as if what we are is actually the instrument that carries us, body and all, down the road. That feeling that we are indeed in good hands, our own, and the world is bearing us up on our feet so we can go longer, or faster, or stronger. The sense that anything can happen between the start and the finish, and its up to us to find out.

No one runs the same miles, and all the stories that NYC will generate this weekend will fill many editions of news reports, magazines and conversations.... I have a story too; I have a belief that nothing prevents me from putting myself on the line, and testing my commitment to unraveling my love of this endeavor. It's a mystery to me- and that tells me its full of grace and beauty and truth. It has transformed me, and allowed me to see within myself, direct and pure, in a way I never could before through my head. It has taken my heart and given it courage and confidence; it has proven me more tenacious than I even hoped.

The "I can do it so can you" line I use for my clients over the years in regards to changes, and the many significant ones I've been through, is particularly poignant with running. We assume there are rules and expectations that must be met. But the bottom line is, if you love to move and get out there, anyone can run. The most democratic sport; it encourages anyone, any age, any disability or ability to participate. I can do it because I watch the crowds behind the leaders and see myself. Soon I will be in a pack with other wanna-be's and we will be havng the time of our lives winding through the streets of old Miami. I will run for the Ryans, the wheelchair champs, the teams raising money, I will run for the oldsters and the young guns. I will run for my own family to bring energy to their challenges, and to meet up with some of my own.

But mostly, I will run because I can. Because I'm curious about my miles. Can I have that moment of effortlessness like Ryan? Will I triumph like Paula? I can aspire to be my own hero.

Blessings, and Happy Trails, Ryan Shay. We'll be 'tapping' you too, if its OK. Thanks for your incredible life.